"Now I get to add ladies' maid to my job list," Willie told Maggie jokingly as she sat at the dressing table in Josette's bedroom, and he brushed her hair into curls. The new houseguest was high maintenance but he tried his damnedest to make her comfortable.

"I wish I was better at this stuff, then I could help ya more; I used to brush Lyddie's hair—she was the best mom. Did I ever tell ya she taught me how to play poker? I sucked at it, till Jason showed me how to cheat. Bet you'd be good at it, though; you got a good poker face."

Maggie stared at the trinkets and accessories on the vanity table, fingering a string of pearls.

The handyman had restored the lavish chamber, sparing no expense with Barnabas' money, and brought in the finest Collinsport food available for takeout. He hauled bucket after bucket of hot water from the kitchen fireplace to the second floor when she wanted to bathe.

Willie knew it wasn't right to be happy when the girl was in that awful situation, but he craved the company, especially since it was Maggie. Although young woman rarely acknowledged or spoke to him, as time went on, she acted less like a zombie and more like a Josette. She still seemed to sleep a lot and, when awake, would ask for Barnabas.

Willie rushed through other chores to afford more time in the lady's company. So, by afternoon he could bring up a silver tray with a pot of Darjeeling tea, because it was her favorite. Barnabas instructed that a servant would never sit in the company of his mistress, so the boy parked himself on the floor, out of the way, and imbibed in his own teatime ritual.

That was probably not what a ladies' maid was supposed to do, but this whole situation was messed up. For Willie, the line between what was right and what was wrong had always been a blurry one. Even when Miss Josette was asleep, the solitary servant found comfort just being in the proximity of a warm body. He conducted long, one-sided conversations, often combining truth and fantasy—it didn't matter because no one was really listening.

Willie's vigilance was not unwarranted, because when unattended, the young woman would sometimes stray from her room and wander about, which was dangerous because the people at Collinwood had no compunctions about randomly walking into the Old House without warning. Young David was particularly notorious for these social transgressions, and even spotted the prisoner on one occasion as she descended the staircase. Fortunately she was mistaken for one of his ghost friends.

Once, while Josette was having a bath, Carolyn and Vicki Winters took it upon themselves to conduct a self-guided tour of the renovations in progress, and Willie found them in the boudoir, rummaging through the vanity. These close calls never seemed to faze Barnabas, but Willie felt that if they didn't get a better lock for the front door soon, he was going to have a heart attack.


The next guest to show up unannounced was Jason McGuire, and this time he was not bearing gifts.

"What happened to your face?" was his greeting as he pushed his way inside.

"You shoulda seen the other guy," was his partner's standard reply. "Listen, Now's not—"

"This won't take long; just popped in to say goodbye. It seems your visa to Collinsport has expired."

"But I can't leave; I'm w-workin' here."

Is that what you call it, work? You told me you'd never work again," Jason smirked. "Now you got a sweet deal goin', and Barnabas Collins is your sugar daddy."

"Aw, c'mon." Willie shook his head in disbelief. "It ain't like that—"

"Sure it is, and the whole town knows it. This is Jason, lad, you don't need to be puttin' on airs with me. Personally, I hope you take him for a bundle, but Roger has his knickers in a twist with this gossip tarnishin' the family's good name." He barked with laughter at the notion, but continued with consternation. "Sadly, now my dear fiancé refuses to go 'head with our weddin' plans till you're far and away."

"Oh." Willie looked out the window at the diminishing rays of sun and with a slightly shaky hand, began to light candles. This would not turn out well; under no circumstances was Jason about to concede his luxurious lifestyle plans for his, once again, trouble-making punk of a partner.

The Irishman's tone was deceptively conversational, but his facial expression was one Willie knew well. "And most disturbin' of all is the sheriff pokin' around askin' questions about you."

"Me? W-what for?" He nearly dropped the match.

"The authorities suspect you had somethin' to do with that girl's disappearance. It was you, wasn't it," Jason prodded with a smile, "made that mysterious phone call tellin' them to look in the graveyard?"

Willie almost looked away, but caught himself and instead, stared the old man in the eye. "You know me better 'n that," was his deadpan reply.

"I used to think so, but now you're actin' all cagey, and too many people have their fingers pointed at me dear ol' partner."

Willie crossed to the mantle and poked at the fire dismissively. "They got nothin' on me," he shrugged.

"And ya better see to it that they don't, because they're lookin' very carefully at you. And, because you're my pal, they're lookin' very carefully at me—and we can't have that." The Irishman pulled Willie to his feet and grabbed his shirtfront, shaking him. "Look at me when I'm talkin' to you, you little shite!"

Jason prepared to block the punch he expected in retaliation, but it never came. The young man flinched and tried to back away, shielding his face; McGuire pushed him aside. "Tough guy," he scoffed.

"Fuck off," Willie replied gruffly, as he moved defensively behind the armchair. "Lemme alone."

"Mark me, lad, your little cover is blown." Jason smoothed out the wrinkle on his suit jacket and adjusted his cuffs. "It's a good grifter who knows when to make a hasty exit."

"I can't. There's things I gotta do."

"Sure an' there is, but I'll not have my plans ruined so you can set up housekeepin' with a rich old buzzard."

"That's the same thing as you're doin'."

"And nobody likes a copy cat. I'm warnin' you, Willie, you ship out at next tide or you'll regret it."

"But whatever would I do without him?" came a cordial voice behind them. Barnabas had been standing in the entrance arch and startled both men.

"Ah, Mr. Collins, I didn't hear ya come in." Jason recovered immediately and flashed his blarney grin.

"For which I must credit Willie's excellent craftsmanship on the doors and floorboards." The handyman looked at his master with apprehension and a twinge of admiration. Nobody could deliver a bullshit line like Barnabas. "Boy, I believe you have chores upstairs that require your immediate attention."

"Yessir." Without even a sideways glance to Jason, Willie felt his partner's dubious stare as he slunk out of the room and sprinted up the stairs. He paused briefly on the landing, listening to the two men verbally square off and proclaim superior knowledge when it came to handling their young hoodlum friend.


Oh shit, the sheriff. This whole situation was going to blow up bigger than booze on a bonfire, and in the end, a black bat would inconspicuously fly away and Willie would take the fall. Afterwards, the townsfolk would nod in agreement. Uh-yuh, he was a strange fella alright, no friends to speak of. Kept to himself. Lived in that rundown old house…

Willie slid down the wall and sat on the landing.

Jason, I wanna go so bad. I'm sorry I messed up your plans. I wish I could run out the back door and drive the truck outta town. Just keep goin' and goin' and—

Something crashed in an upstairs bedroom.

What are you waiting for, you fool. Go!

Willie raced to Josette's bedchamber and found her struggling to get out of a vintage gown. He scrambled over to assist, his own problems instantly forgotten.

"Here, lemme help. Don't rip it." He loosened the back ribbons and the dress fell in a puddle at her feet; the mistress was naked underneath. Willie got an eyeful, then walked away and punched the wall several times. He took a deep breath, adjusted his pants, and returned, retrieved the chemise lying on her bed and helped her into it.

"You gotta wear this under everything; I thought you knew that," he whispered vehemently. Not that the undergarment offered much protection; through age or design, it was virtually transparent. He layered the nightgown on top, followed by the dressing gown and slippers. That felt like a close call. The servant leaned against the bedpost, wiping sweat from his brow.

"I heard voices. Who is downstairs?" Josette glided toward the door.

"Nobody you know," He said, guiding her back into the room. "Now where's your dinner?" He found it on the writing desk. "Ya didn't eat again; now it's all cold. C'mon, sit with me."

He placed her on a pillow in front of the fire, whereupon Willie cut Maggie's dinner into bite size pieces and hand fed her.

"Good, huh? It's from the diner, where ya used—never mind. Anyway, they got turkey specials all week." She opened her mouth like a baby bird. "And—how was your Thanksgiving? Oh, I guess ya were sick in bed, but you're doin' better now." Maggie continued to eat as Willie conducted his usual one-sided conversation. "Well, mine was real good, thanks for askin'. I drove all the way to New York and saw my folks. Nah, Barnabas didn't mind. Traffic sucked but—hey, chew that before ya swallow."

Willie loaded her fork. "My mom's a really good cook. She made turkey and gravy—stuffin' and—what's that other thing you have on holidays? Sweet potatoes. Yeah. My dad and me drank beer all day and watched the game. Football game. Giants and the—uh, Dolphins. He's really my step-dad, so we're more like pals. I have a brother too. He's in Little League and Scouts, ya know, stuff like that." The young man smiled. "He's a crazy kid, always tryin' to get me to hang out with him; so we all played some board game after dinner and watched The Wizard of Oz. Did I tell you they have a color TV? It's really cool in color 'cause the witch is all green. Anyway, that's what I heard…I'm prob'ly the only person who didn't know that."

Josette turned her head away, indicating that she had eaten enough, and stared at the fire. "There was pumpkin pie, too, with cranberry sauce." Willie added quietly. He looked hungrily at the scraps on her plate. "Are ya gonna finish this? Do ya mind?" He all but licked the dish clean in a flash.

Josette rose and again advanced toward the door. "Barnabas…"

Willie jumped up and once more redirected her, this time toward the bed. "Give it a rest, okay? He'll be here soon." He tried to lower the girl gently onto the quilt but she fell back without warning, bringing the servant down with her, his hand pinned behind her back.

He started to pull it out, but Maggie turned toward him and snuggled in, and Willie found himself placing his free arm around the young woman's shoulders to draw her close. They lay together on the bed in silence, Maggie dozing, Willie holding her. Tighter. He buried his face in her jasmine-scented hair. If only it could stay like this.


Willie knew better than to remain there for long. He was barely on his feet, covering her with a shawl, when the boss entered.

"What a loquacious friend you have in Mr. McGuire."

"Yessir."

"Do you know the meaning of that word?"

"No, sir."

"It is verbose. Unlike you, of late. You've become uncharacteristically dutiful and restrained in your opinions." His servant looked uncertain as Barnabas sighed, shaking his head.

The vampire crossed to the canopy bed and gazed upon his lady in repose. "I must commend you on your attention to every detail of your mistress's comfort." He had that condescending smile.

"Yessir." Willie swiftly crossed the room to hang up Josette's dress, his eyes were focused on his task.

Barnabas held up her empty plate. "And what an appetite she must have. I hope you are not ordering more food than is necessary."

"I'll cut back if ya want. It's just that ya said to take good c-care of her."

"So I did—and so you have." Barnabas held out the plate for the young man, who remained at a distance. "What is the matter with you? Come and clear the dishes." Willie approached him carefully, on the lookout for another of the master's mind games. "Why are you trembling? Have you done something of which I should be aware?"

Willie shook his head. The vampire was playing with him, it was obvious. Barnabas closed the gap, placed his hand on his servant's shoulder, and Willie's legs turned to Jello. That was often what happened right before he would get grabbed or hit.

"Then stop acting foolish, and take the dishes away." The master placed the plate into his hands. "I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation for why you smell of sage, poultry and perfume."

The servant swallowed. "I-I ate the rest of her dinner; she didn't want it all. It woulda been wasteful to throw it away, and you don't like that."

"I see. Perhaps in the future you will permit me to delegate your rewards."

"Sure. I mean, yessir. Sorry."

"You are dismissed until I call for you."

Willie made a hasty exit and spent the evening in his room. Only Barnabas would make a big fuss over a mouthful of turkey. The servant proceeded to further reward himself with the bottle of rum stashed under his bed.

But he took more care in the future to maintain a respectful distance from his mistress.


As the days passed, Josette reacted more to her caregiver's remarks and would, on occasion, respond. She also became more independent at feeding and dressing herself. The prisoner was becoming increasingly aware of her surroundings and circumstances.

Things finally fell apart when Sam Evans and Joe Haskell came by to pick up the long-neglected easel, paints and portrait. As they loaded their car in the driveway, Willie just barely got back upstairs in time before the young woman recognized their voices and burst through her bedroom door.

"Joe? Pop? I'm here!" She called as Willie pushed her back inside. She ran to the window, screaming. "Pop! Come back!" They both stopped and listened to the sound of a car pulling out of the driveway.

"C'mon, sit back down, Maggie, I mean Miss Josette," Willie said quietly. "You don't know them people."

"Stop calling me that! I know who I am." She shoved him hard. "Why did you send Joe and Pop away? They would have saved me."

The servant shook his head. "No, Barnabas woulda killed 'em."

"Why! Why are you keeping me here?"

"It's Barnabas, he thinks you're his girlfriend from long ago."

Maggie's hand flew to her neck as she emitted a startled cry. "I remember. I remember everything." She grabbed his arm. "I have to get out of here! You have to help me."

"He'll know; he knows everything."

"Willie, look at me. He's a demon and you're doing his dirty work."

"I-I can't help it."

"You're a coward."

Willie looked away, ashamed. "I tried, ya know. I did try. I m-messed it up." He vaguely indicated the scar on his cheek.

"Don't you understand, he's going to kill me! Barnabas wants to turn me into a monster like he is!" She collapsed sobbing into his arms. Willie held her and stroked her hair, but he couldn't save her, no more than he could save himself.

"Don't let on that ya know," he said softly. "Keep pretendin' to be Josette. Maybe somethin'll happen."


Something did happen. Barnabas instructed the handyman to build a second coffin. Willie followed orders, adapted plans for the closest thing he could find, which was a long storage trunk, and purchased the lumber cut to his specifications. Willie knew the end product would be terrible; his one experience as onboard assistant carpenter to Otto Zimmerman was insufficient to qualify him for the task. He sanded and stained and sanded, thinking only about closing the door—the one in his mind; it was very nearly there.

Barnabas obviously didn't know jack about quality workmanship because he thought it was marvelous. Or maybe he was merely as excited about the finished product and its ultimate use as Willie was repulsed by it. He made as many time-consuming mistakes as possible until the vampire grew impatient and threatened consequences if he didn't finish soon.

Willie couldn't free the girl, to do so would court disaster for them both, but he hoped that, given enough time, she would find a means of escape. He spent hours in the basement working on the casket or at Collinwood chopping firewood, leaving her to figure it out.

Christ, Maggie, just pick the damn lock on your door. How hard could it be? If only he could show her and be done with it, but then Barnabas would know. Eventually, Willie exhausted his ability to digress; time had run out.

Barnabas handed his servant a resplendent diamond necklace with instructions to have Josette dressed in her wedding gown, veil and jewelry and to be ready for the vampire when he rose the following evening. Willie spent the day in her room, feeling gutless and guilty. He tried to tell her, tell himself, that he would risk his life to save her if it were only that simple—if there really was a way; or if he wasn't such a chicken shit.

Maggie sat staring out the window, tears streaming down her cheeks; she refused to eat or speak to him. As the day drew to a close, she dressed herself in the bridal gown that was to be her funeral shroud and walked mechanically to the door. "Let's get this over with," the girl said dully.

Once she reached the basement and saw her own coffin, Maggie's legs buckled and Willie grabbed her in support. She clutched at his arms, her words capsizing an emotional floodgate.

"I don't want to die! Oh god, get me out of here! Do something! "

"Barnabas, he'll—"

"It's alright. I know you're afraid of him, but—" she took a deep breath and looked squarely into his eyes. "You could come with me. You don't have to do this. We can leave together." Willie pulled her close at the sound of what were the most beautiful words he ever heard. Maggie pushed him back with a fierceness she had not shown heretofore. "Kill him! Kill him now, and we'll both be free!"

Willie thought for a moment that his heart would explode. "I tried to kill him. I tried to run away. I tried to save you. I couldn't—do—anything." He walked away, unable to look at the girl any longer.

"Well, I can." Maggie started to rummage through the tools on the handyman's worktable.

"No!" The servant ran to her, grabbing the pointed object. "That'll just make him mad, and he might hurt you."

"Do you realize how stupid that just sounded? He might hurt me, oh really." Willie could think of no response. "Alright then. Your vampire is such an intelligent man, then I will speak to him and reason with him."

"That idea is actually dumber than the first one."

"Go on back to your chores, or whatever." The servant started to protest. "You're not supposed to be here when he rises; that's what he said, right? You don't want to make your boss mad." Their eyes met, silently, glistening in the candlelight. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her and be her hero. "If either one of you think I'm going down without a fight, you're wrong."

"I'm sorry." Willie ran up the stairs and slammed the door, knowing he would never see Maggie Evans alive again.